


Making Tea, Taking Comfort 4 -- Grieving

by Viola_Laterra



Series: Making Tea, Taking Comfort [4]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Family Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Post-Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viola_Laterra/pseuds/Viola_Laterra
Summary: After Aang's death, Zuko and Katara's bond is an essential balm as they both cope with his passing.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Kya II (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Kya II & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Making Tea, Taking Comfort [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484366
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

It was days... no, weeks? after Aang's death that Zuko sent to Katara. Time had lost meaning, for a while there. Maybe it was just that he felt frozen, like Aang had been frozen in the ice... like the world continued to move around him, but he was senseless to it. 

It hadn't felt like this when his uncle had died... But when that had happened, he'd had Aang and Katara, in addition to his own family, for support. And, somehow, though he would deeply miss his uncle's company and advice, there was a way in which Zuko felt he'd succeeded in trying to learn from him, to embody what he admired about his uncle... so when Iroh passed, somehow Zuko found some sort of peace with that: he knew that he would always carry a part of his uncle's spirit with him. And of course, Iroh had been ancient. Aang was only in his 60s. Well, biologically, anyway.

And Zuko thought to himself that a person in their 60s -- no, 70s, now, he corrected himself -- someone who had ruled a nation since he was in his late teens, who had a child of his own... you would think that someone like that could handle the death of a friend, even when it was untimely. And reaching out to that friend's partner, who had her own grief to deal with... was it selfish? But Zuko couldn't think of anyone else he really wanted to see. So despite his self-doubt, Zuko wrote to Katara just the same, a one-word question: "Tea?"

It had been years since either of them had sent to each other in this way. Maybe it was because they'd both been so busy with their own families, their own business ruling and advising nations and training new generations of waterbenders and firebenders. They'd still made time for each other from time to time, and it was wonderful when they did, but... it had been so long since they'd just sat together, just held each other when things had become too much.

And maybe it was also because all of them, the whole gang, had spent more time together in the last few years... maybe because they had known this was coming. It had been clear enough that Aang was aging quickly, tiring more easily than he ought to... And all the best healers in the world -- Katara herself included -- could feel that the life force was ebbing from him faster than it should have: the cost of a century of sleep.

And when Aang had finally left them all... he'd been at peace, in his own way, of course. That was the Air Nomad way, to let go of attachments, to willingly go into the cycle of rebirth. And especially so, for the Avatar.

On the other hand, Zuko also knew how much it had mattered to Aang to try to right the wrongs of the 100 years he'd been missing. They'd talked about that, a lot, in his last weeks of life: how far they'd come, and how far they still had to go. Zuko had been thinking about it ceaselessly since Aang had passed.

At any rate, Katara had sent back with her usual invitation, and Zuko set off for her new home at the South Pole. She and Aang had moved there from Air Temple Island in that last year, to be close to the Southern waterbending Master healers, and where the Order of the White Lotus could help protect them. And after Aang was gone... after the memorial service and celebrations of Aang's life that had taken place in Republic City... Katara had returned to the South. Zuko thought to himself that she would probably never leave, now. Her daughter Kya was staying there with her, and that was some comfort. But it wasn't just Katara's comfort he was concerned with right now; it was his own, as well.

The whole way there, riding on dragon-back, Zuko couldn't help but remember riding on Appa with Aang, all those years ago. He hadn't had cause to do that for... decades, now? Of course, flying with a dragon was totally different than with a sky bison, but the feeling of the air streaming past was familiar. The air was cold, especially as they made their way further and further south, but the tears brought on by the memories burned hot on his face, even as the wind tore them away.

Zuko arrived, and went to the door of Katara's home. Knocked. And there was Kya, at the door, looking up at him. Zuko couldn't help smiling, to see her. She looked very much like her mother had at that age, but there was, even in grief, a sparkle in her eyes that spoke of her father.

Kya threw her arms around Zuko, and he put his around her in return. He could feel her crying a little against him, and he let a few of his tears fall, too. Then she gave him a squeeze and let go, smiling tearfully up at him. "I'm glad you're here," she said to him. "She needs you as much as you need her."

Zuko nodded, unable to say anything in response. Somehow Kya's assessment that her mother could benefit from his company, too... it defused a part of him that had been ramping up to feel like a selfish, terrible person for coming to Katara at a time like this, seeking comfort.

As he went through the house with Kya, headed for Katara's rooms, Zuko smiled lopsidedly. He thought, with a little bit of bitterness, that even as old as he was it was still so easy to slip into that self-hating place. And... Aang and Katara and their children... somehow with a word they all knew how to catch him in it and stop him. Each in their own way, of course. Tenzin was always so serious, and Bumi so flamboyant... they all embodied different parts of their parents. It had meant everything to Zuko that he'd been an intermittent part of their lives, and that his Izumi had grown up knowing the Avatar and his family, too.

He and Kya arrived at Katara's bedroom door, and Kya squeezed Zuko's hand. She said, "I'll make the tea this time. You go on." Zuko managed to say thank you, and then she was gone.

And then... he stood there. Not sure if he had the strength to just go in. He'd managed to raise his hand to the knob, when Katara opened the door and crossed her arms, looking at him. Just as she had when he'd hesitated at her door, all those years ago. She had a lot more gray in her hair (as did he), but she was every bit as beautiful as she had been. On any other day, she still had the same warmth and vitality she had then. But today, Zuko looked her in the eyes, and saw a kind of empty sadness there. In spite of that, Katara smiled and said to him, "What Spirit do I have lurking around my door?" Zuko laughed a little tearfully; over the years, she had teased him like this. It felt familiar -- comforting, in a way. She reached out to him and said, "Will you never learn? You should just come in."

He said, "I know," and then he was crying, wrapped around her, and she around him. She didn't cry, at least not that Zuko was capable of noticing at the time. They stood like that for some time, until eventually Katara leaned away and said, "Well, Fire Lord, let's go make ourselves comfortable before my daughter comes back with the tea and makes fun of us for standing around in the hallway like idiots."

"All right," Zuko said, managing a reasonably authentic half-smile, and followed Katara in. 

She settled in on a little couch in the dressing area, set at an angle from the bed. Zuko looked around the room, noting a variety of things from their home on Air Temple Island. He sighed, and said to Katara as he sat next to her, "I meant to tell you how nice the place looked, the last time I was here." She laughed, and said, "Thank you."

They just sat together for a while, Katara holding one of his hands in both of hers, until Kya knocked at the door softly, and let herself in with the tea.

She brought it over to the little low table in front of the couch and set it down with a flourish. She said, "I know it's not as good as when you two make it, but hopefully it will work." Zuko could see how hard she was trying, so he put a little extra effort into responding: "I'm sure it will be delicious, thank you, Kya."

Kya nodded and grinned at him, though Zuko could still tell that she was forcing it a little. She was worried about her mother, he thought. And still grieving, herself, for having lost her father.

"Thank you, Kya love," Katara said. Her daughter came over and knelt down to hug her, and then kissed Katara softly on the forehead as she stood and then left the room. It was a precious moment, and if Zuko hadn't been a part of Katara's life like this for so long, and they hadn't been so emotionally intimate all that time, he would almost have been embarrassed to witness these little moments of tenderness between her and her children.

Then Zuko and Katara were alone. Each of them took up a teacup and sipped at it. Zuko took the opportunity to warm his a little bit, and held out a hand for Katara's cup. She chuckled and passed it to him to heat it to the temperature he knew she liked. A bit cooler than he did, he'd found over the years, but not by much. Kya had done a good job, but he and Katara had been doing this for decades, and for quite some time before Kya had been born. They had it down to an art.

Tea warmed to perfection, Zuko went to hand the cup back to Katara, and this time when their hands touched he realized how cold hers were. Of course, it was just colder at the North and South Poles, in general. There were fancy steam-powered heaters people were using to keep municipal buildings warm, and some homes had them, too, but at least in this house, the bedrooms still stayed pretty cold. Katara's bed always had a large number of blankets and furs on it to make up for that.

But Zuko also knew that she kept a brazier full of stones on one side of the room, which could be heated to give off warmth. So as she began to sip her tea -- he was gratified to see her smile with satisfaction at the temperature -- he stood and went to move the contraption closer to the two of them, very carefully bent a tiny little whirlwind of fire around the rocks, until they were red-hot, and then closed the little metal box and returned to the couch.

Katara chuckled. She said, "You do still know how to keep me warm." Zuko smiled. He knew he couldn't keep it up all night -- that would drain him of all his energy, and he knew he didn't have as much of it as he had in his teens -- but he'd at least make them comfortable before they went to bed. He took her hands in his, feeling them warm up a bit as he held them, and said, "I do my best."

After a moment, he picked up his own tea and began sipping it. He said conversationally to Katara, "She did well with the tea." Katara smiled at him and said, "Well, she has some good memories of the Jasmine Dragon, even if your uncle wasn't running it anymore at that point."

Zuko smiled and laughed for just a moment, before remembering that Iroh was gone, and that Aang was gone now too. He choked back a little sob, trying to hide it with a sip of tea, but of course that fooled no one. Katara put a hand on his shoulder, felt how tight the muscles were, and clucked her tongue.

"You're not taking good enough care of yourself," she said reprovingly, and gestured at a water basin in the other room, bending a delicate little tendril of water all the way into the bedroom and then coiling it around his shoulder. The shape of the water as it arced and wound towards them was beautiful, as were the motions Katara made to control it, and the healing itself felt incredibly good. Somehow, as the physical tension eased, the emotional tension eased too. Zuko thought to himself that he was deeply grateful to be here, for so many reasons.

He said to Katara, "How are the children holding up?" She sighed and shook her head. "Kya is trying to support me, of course. And I do need it, a little. So I'm letting her help me, because I think it also helps her help herself." Zuko nodded, and then made a soft little sound of contentment as Katara loosened a knot in his neck that he realized had been there for more than a year.

"What about Bumi and Tenzin?" he asked. Katara chuckled and said, "Throwing themselves into their respective passions, I think." Zuko laughed too. Katara went on, "Bumi is off on some deployment somewhere, no doubt up to some adventures I'll hear told for years to come. And Tenzin is..." she paused.

Zuko waited, a little tension reappearing. Aang's youngest child -- and now the last Airbender, as Aang had been -- was always serious, sometimes bordering on rigidly solemn. Though Tenzin was the most engaged with Air Nomad culture of the three children, and most likely to benefit from their spiritual traditions which could help ease this particular loss... he must feel the weight of it all even more heavily.

Katara went on. "Well, I do believe that time will heal these wounds, as it has healed so many before this. But he has retreated into a deep study in the Southern Air Temple." She sighed. "At least the Air Acolytes are there. So he's not alone. And it's where his father grew up, so perhaps he can feel closer to him that way. And the Air Acolytes will have traditions and spirituality in common with him that I am hoping will help him find peace in this difficult time."

Zuko sighed as Katara finished with the water and sent it with a graceful swoop back into the bathroom. He sat forward and bent a little more heat into the brazier. And then as he settled back into the couch with Katara, and they each sipped their tea, he dared to take a long look at her. She seemed tired, and... smaller, somehow, than she usually did. He finally asked: "And how about you?"

Katara sat, silent for a while, sipping her tea. Then she sighed. "Well, how should I be? We knew this was coming. But it doesn't soften the blow."

Zuko nodded, murmured, "Of course." He'd learned over the years that sometimes it took her a little while to let go of needing to care for everyone else, in order to open up about what was bothering her and to receive the care that she was actually seeking for herself. Just like his habits of self-criticism were hard -- or maybe impossible -- to unlearn, Katara's need to support and care for others before caring for herself was something that she'd never really lost.

And in a way, these things defined them in good ways, as well. But in a time like this... they didn't serve either of them very well. So he waited patiently for her to decide to go on.

At length, as she finished the tea, and set the cup on the table, she looked sideways at him. Almost as if she were afraid to open this particular door. But apparently it had given her strength, to remind herself who she was here with, because she said, "You just... you think you'll grow old with someone, and then..." And now she did begin to cry. Softly, at first, but then Zuko set aside his teacup and gathered her up into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, drawing her knees up under her. He turned his body, holding her close. "I know," he said, stroking her hair. 

And then she began to sob. Zuko had rarely seen Katara this upset; she was usually composed, compassionate, serious. And as she'd matured, she'd developed a kind of amusement about the people around her with all their struggles -- amusement that had come with wisdom and experience. He thought to himself that he felt that, too. But he didn't express that amusement with the world like she did, and it didn't keep him from getting upset about his own struggles. Maybe it was also because she had been with Aang all those years, and some of his 'timeless' tendencies had rubbed off on her. Air Nomads always seemed so expansive and calm, he thought. Even if he had seen Aang pretty upset from time to time, over the years.

And that brought it back to him again, that Aang was gone. And he began to cry again, himself.

The two of them just held each other, beyond speech, only little moments of a soothing touch here or gentle pressure there to remind each other that they were both still there. And after a time, first Katara, and then Zuko, stopped crying and drifted into a slight doze.


	2. Chapter 2

It was only probably an hour later, but the cold in the room woke Zuko from his doze. He shifted and Katara roused, too. She stretched, and he stood and went to the brazier to warm the stones again. This time, after they were glowing a little orange, she came to stand next to him, holding her hands above the stones, feeling the warmth. They stood in silence, until Katara said, "It is a comfort to know that the Avatar has been reborn, somewhere, already."

Zuko nodded. He'd felt that way, too, in between moments of grief and numbness. He said, "In fact, they could be right here in the South, for all we know." Katara looked up at him and made a dismissive sound. "Yes, of course, that's possible. But there are more waterbenders in the North, so it's more likely that the next Avatar will be there." The population of the Southern Water Tribe had grown since its near elimination in the Hundred Years' War, but the North still boasted a larger population.

Zuko spared another moment of gratitude for the fact that somehow it had all gone differently, in his generation. Gratitude for Katara's mother, sacrificing herself to save her daughter, the last Southern waterbender; and gratitude for Iroh, who had so patiently helped Zuko realize what he needed to know in order to choose his own path. Because that path had ultimately brought them to end the war, to stop his father, and to these relationships that had sustained them in the decades following, when they had worked so hard to heal the wounds that Sozin and Ozai had inflicted on the world. 

Zuko's thoughts turned again to how difficult it had been, just after the war, to juggle the restoration of balance between the nations, and at the same time, to try to lead his own nation forward and away from the direction his predecessors had taken it. And now that Aang was gone... who would work on keeping that balance? The new Avatar would be just a baby now. It would be some time before they manifested the abilities that would identify them as Aang's reincarnation -- the White Lotus would be on the lookout already, of course, in both the North and the South, as Aang had requested of them. But what would the world do without an adult Avatar? Even once identified, it would take time for the child to master the elements and learn about their role in the world.

The intensity of the sadness they were both feeling seemed to have lessened, though of course it hadn't gone away. Zuko let Katara take the lead on how the rest of the evening would go, and eventually she suggested that they make ready for bed, so they did so. Zuko moved the brazier closer to the bed to help keep them warm as they went to sleep. He pulled out a few of the stones that were still warm, but cool enough to touch, and put them under the covers at the foot of the bed. 

After changing and washing up, they settled into bed and snuggled in together. Katara said to him, "I still worry about the Avatar's enemies. Aang had to make choices, when he intervened to make balance in the world. And some people are not fond of what he's done all this time. Even though there's no Ozai to hunt this Avatar, there will still be people out there who will."

Zuko murmured assent. He said, "We can hope that the White Lotus will do the job Aang has asked of them." Katara nodded against him, shifting and threading an arm around his side. Zuko added, "And I will personally do everything I can to ensure the Avatar's safety."

Katara chuckled. "Still atoning for the sins of your father?" Irritated by the comparison, though he'd been making that same comparison all night, himself, Zuko made a sound of impatience. Then he relented, realizing she was probably right. "Maybe," he admitted. "But can't I think of it as helping my friend, even after he's gone?"

She pushed herself up for a moment to look him in the eye; he tilted his head down to return the gaze. "Sorry," she said. "Yes, it can be that, too." It was a strange mix of levity and gravity. Zuko wondered if this is what life would be like for a while... the slow recovery from loss with moments of joy and even contentment, but also with moments when the sadness rendered you speechless, and sometimes without warning. And the rest of the moments, like this one... somewhere in between.

Katara settled back down, resting her head on his chest. Zuko wrapped his arms around her again, and then said, "I've been thinking..." the thoughts were still half-formed, but sometimes talking to Katara about this sort of thing helped him to shape them better.

"Hmm?" Katara said, encouragingly. Zuko went on, "I have been thinking that I should abdicate the throne to Izumi."

"What?" Katara said, startled. Zuko chuckled. "Not right now, of course. She isn't ready for that. But she knows that it will fall to her to lead the Fire Nation someday. And she's already shown more aptitude for it than I did at her age."

"When you were her age!" Katara made a little sound of derision. "You've done a good job of giving her a better life than you had -- not that it was a high bar. You would have shown plenty of aptitude if you'd had better support earlier."

Zuko was touched by the vote of confidence implied by Katara's statement. "Maybe," he said. "But I have been thinking that someone needs to continue to work for balance... be an ambassador between nations... someone needs to keep an eye on that, while the new Avatar is still young."

"Hmm," Katara said, apparently musing. "I suppose you're right."

Zuko sighed. "And I have been thinking that I don't want to be leading the Fire Nation until I die. I've started to think about retiring to Ember Island. To rest, you know?"

Katara laughed at him. "That does sound lovely. And it's certainly not something either your father or grandfather would have done, giving up power before they were forced to." Zuko laughed, too, and said, "Yes." Then, after a moment, "Of course, Izumi still needs to learn a lot of things. I wouldn't ask her to do this until she feels she's ready."

"Of course not," Katara allowed. They were silent for some time, slowly succumbing to the pull of sleep, but at length he said to her, "And the new Avatar will need a waterbending teacher."

Katara chuckled back at him. She sounded sleepy, too. "Well, I'm available, if that's the right thing. And, you know... being able to support the next Avatar... would feel like I'm still helping Aang, in a way."

"Mm-hm," Zuko responded. They were both nearly asleep now, and the last thought he had was the memory of Aang, laying in this very same bed, extremely weak, only a few days from his death. He'd raised a hand to Zuko, who had clasped it tightly with both of his. And Aang had said to him, "I'm glad she's had the relationship she's had with you all these years. And I'm grateful that she'll still have you, when I'm gone. Please help her, when you can." 

Zuko tightened his arms around Katara, and fell asleep. Sadness wasn't far, but comfort wasn't far either.


End file.
